


Maple & Peach

by 1electricpirate



Series: Laundry Day [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Flash Fic, M/M, Tumblr Fic, domesticity gone wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7673743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1electricpirate/pseuds/1electricpirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the first time since he was 8 years old that Bitty burns a pie, and it’s all Jack’s fault, and Bitty could not even care less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maple & Peach

The pie was a masterpiece, if he did say so himself: Fresh rhubarb and strawberries from the Hope Street farmer’s market, the kind of extra perfect pie crust that only happens once in every thousand times, and a braided lattice carefully glazed. All told, it had taken him the better part of the day, but Jack wasn’t due back from his scheduled Best Bro Break (a weekend spent with Shitty in Boston) until late afternoon, and he didn’t really have anything better to do with his time. Anyway, it was just nice, wasn’t it, to come home to the smell of a fresh baked pie? It was the least he could do, really.

When he hears Jack’s key scraping against the lock, the pie has just gone in the oven and Bitty is elbow-deep in suds.

“In the kitchen, sweetheart!” he calls out after the door slams shut. A soft thud—fastidious as he is about everything else, Jack has a terrible habit of leaving his bag right in front of the door—and then plodding footsteps and a pair of strong arms circling his waist.

“Hey,” Jack says, nuzzling into Bitty’s neck. “Smells good.”

“Strawberry ’n rhubarb. It’s gonna be so good, just wait. How’s Shitty? Did y’all have fun? He’s not working too hard, is he? Lord, I worry about that boy sometimes.”

“He’s fine. He says hi.” Jack presses a kiss to the soft skin under Bitty’s ear; Bitty shivers and, setting the last of the dishes to drain on the side, turns in Jack’s arms to deliver a proper welcome home kiss, which Jack returns enthusiastically.  

“Hey,” Bitty murmurs as he draws back for breath, hands smoothing down Jack’s neck and shoulders. Jack’s wearing one of his favourite travelling shirts, a beat up old Lynyrd Skynyrd tee that Bitty would gladly burn given the slightest chance, though it is one of the softest things of all. “Missed yo—hey, what’s—" There’s … something on Jack’s arm, just peeking out from under the sleeve, all browns and oranges; he’d write it off as a bruise if Jack had been on the ice recently, but it’s the off season and he’s been sticking to off-ice training.

“Oh, uh—“  Jack scratches the back of his head awkwardly with his other hand.

“Is that—did you get—oh my God, Jack Zimmermann, did you get a tattoo without telling me?!”

Jack flushes. “It was meant to be a surprise.”

Bitty’s eyes narrow. “So, the super secret Best Bros Break that Lardo and I were under no circumstances allowed to attend?”

“Pretext,” Jack admits, though he has the decency to look vaguely abashed. Bitty whaps him one on his other bicep.

“Well?! Get that shirt off, Zimmermann, before I take this God-given excuse to cut it right off.”

Looking wary, Jack pulls the shirt over his head and then stands back, turning slightly to the side so Bitty can see. “Can’t touch it yet, it’s still healing.”

“Jack.” It’s actually huge; covering his whole shoulder and bicep, over to his pectoral and down onto his back, all in russets and browns and golds and a hint of green: a maple branch, rendered with such breathtaking artistry that Bitty has to clench his hand into a fist to stop himself reaching out and touching. “It’s amazing. Oh my god, how long did this take?”

“All day,” Jack admits, watching Bitty carefully as he examines the work on his bicep. “But that’s not the surprise?”

Bitty blinks at him. “Huh?”

“It’s—here.” Jack turns again, and Bitty’s eyes go to the part of the tattoo that branches over Jack’s chest, where—

“Oh my God,” Bitty gasps, hands flying to his mouth. “Oh my God, Jack, what did you do?” He can’t tear his eyes away to check Jack’s face, though, because there, hanging from the maple branch and inked almost immediately over Jack’s heart, is a perfect Georgia peach.

“Is it—okay?”

“Is it okay?” Bitty nearly screeches, tearing his eyes away to stare incredulously up Jack, this crazy, wonderful man who loves him so much sometimes it hurts Bitty to think about. “Is it okay? Oh my lord, Jack, you—it’s—it’s—“

There aren’t actually words for what it is, so Bitty does the next best thing: he flings himself at Jack, mindful as he can be of Jack’s tender left side, and kisses him as thoroughly as he can manage. Jack catches him with a soft oompf and a chuckle, and then they’re pulling and pushing at each other, staggering blindly backwards until Jack’s ass hits the top of the stove and sends a carefully stacked pile of baking wear scattering. Bitty doesn’t even spare it a glance, though, entirely too focused on kissing Jack within an inch of his life.

Not until much, much later do they realise that Bitty’s oven timer also went scattering and, in the process, shattered into a hundred useless pieces. It’s the first time since he was 8 years old that Bitty burns a pie, and it’s all Jack’s fault, and Bitty could not _even_ care less.

**Author's Note:**

> Flash fic for urbanhymnal, who gave the prompt "That Tuesday was the first time since he was 8 years old that Bitty burnt a pie, and it’s all Jack’s fault." Originally posted on [tumblr](http://1electricpirate.tumblr.com/post/148118445318/for-urbanhymnal-the-pie-was-a-masterpiece-if).


End file.
